The Wistful Skyline
The wind in Patagonia does not blow; it erodes. It scoured the faces of the unfinished houses along the border industrial park, stripping the paint until the wood looked like bone, a constant reminder of the work that would never be finished. Ernestina Hinojosa, the last sexton of the church that was slated for demolition, stood in the schoolroom of ink and damp, listening to the small, hollow...
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